


Sausage Party

by CruelisnotMason



Series: Happy & humorous sheith fics [7]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College, Eating, F/F, Festivals, Fluff, Food, Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, Small Towns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:15:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23705218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CruelisnotMason/pseuds/CruelisnotMason
Summary: Juniper, the home town of the "Hot Diggity Dog Walk of Juniper" has its annual hot dog eating contest, but Shiro's attention gets caught by a certain participant from out of town.
Relationships: Acxa/Veronica (Voltron), Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Matt Holt & Keith, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Past Adam/Shiro
Series: Happy & humorous sheith fics [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1350754
Comments: 34
Kudos: 89





	Sausage Party

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for my absolutely wonderful Beta @[otayuriistheliteralbest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/otayuriistheliteralbest/pseuds/otayuriistheliteralbest) for not only make tons of corrections but also giving me intel on that true american small town life. Thanks so much for all your suggestions!

The guy opposite Shiro looks pale. 

In the midst of other contestants he managed to sit a little further away, safe from the cheery crowd emitting laughter and chatter. While Shiro didn’t plan to isolate himself from the happy place to his right when he chose a seat further away, he gets the feeling that this guy very decidedly did.

The loud chatter all around the place must be deafening to those who weren’t used to it. Food stall after food stall lines up a few yards behind the small fence that separates contestants from ordinary visitors. The smells of the several grills, pots, and ovens mix with the already hot and sticky air and everyone’s sweat. It’s enough to pass out, if it weren’t for the vicious hot dog-shaped balloons which get dragged around by screaming or laughing children that in turn get dragged or shouted at by their parents, which would stop every fleeting thought of sleeping in the middle of the annually held biggest sausage fest in Arizona, the _“Hot Diggity Dog Walk of Juniper”._

Despite being marketed as the biggest festival of its kind in the state of Arizona, it’s not really _big_ . Usually there aren’t any visitors from out of town, which might be due to several reasons; one, the ads that play a whole month before the start of the festival are largely intimidating for everyone who hasn’t lived in Juniper their whole life, and two, “Sausage Fest” just doesn’t have a nice ring to it. As one might expect, the result is that most out of town visitors are middle-aged _men._

But Shiro can’t say his town isn’t trying. They are. Very hard, even. This year, a friend’s friend of a friend told Shiro that allegedly a big name would come to perform in their modest town. Later Shiro found out that it wasn’t a big name but merely a local punk band that promised to play five of their new songs — “written last year and still pretty damn good” — in drunken stupor in a live stream on their 134 follower YouTube channel. They also promised the ‘hotdog community of Arizona’ that they would bring them a “good fuckin’ time.” Shiro really can’t wait to see them and even spots the small stage the event organizers built for them to hold their performance as a main act later that evening.

Even though the small town bustle feels silly at times, Shiro has come to love this festival in all its glory since the start of his teenage years. In the year that his family first arrived in this town, a place which seemed to Shiro less interesting than a dry piece of dirt, Shiro went to the Sausage Fest for the first time. He drank his first sip of beer and ate a _Krakauer_ that his parents paid for. He met other teenagers that he hung around with the rest of the evening and who ended up being his life-long best friends. Afterwards they started the habit of Friday night pancakes at Hunk’s diner. It was always _born, live and die_ with this town and weirdly enough, it was the Sausage Fest that made Shiro feel at home for the first time since his family moved there.

The competition has yet to start, and it doesn’t look like it will anytime soon. A man around his fifties with bright red hair wears a flashy yellow suit and matching hat, taking his time strutting from the far right side of the two long benches and one long rectangular table to the far left side and back, stopping and smiling vibrantly whenever he spots the scarce amount _local prominence_ of this small town, begging for interviews that are happily given. 

There are cameras set up framing the contestants at every angle — including Shiro and _the guy_ — as if today was about someone winning the _Palme d’or_ instead of competing in a eating contest at this small town sausage party, like they’d actually be sipping champagne at the crisp _Côte d’Azur_ instead of drinking cheap beer. 

To some extent, it makes this fest all the more over the top, and yet Shiro appreciates the honest excitement his town harbors for sausages.

Shiro shifts his eyes back and wonders what the mysterious guy opposite him will think about all of this. He hasn’t yet noticed Shiro watching him, eyes still fixed on the host and celebrities with a bewildered look. His eyebrows furrow so comically that Shiro has to stop himself from snorting out a laugh and instead chuckles into his palm.

When Shiro lets his eyes travel down, he spots an eye-catching name badge on the guy’s chest. His name is in crinkly letters which are hard to read, even from a short distance. In contrast, the sausage mascot is very clearly visible on the bottom right. 

No one else at the festival ever wears the name badges, but certainly not because they don’t like the mascot: it’s partly because no one here likes to stick to the rules, partly because everyone knows each other already, hence no name badge needed.

Strangers under fifty aren’t a reoccurring thing in this town, and if they were, Shiro doubts they’d come to visit the Sausage Fest of all places.

And yet there’s _this guy.  
_

 _Keith —_ Shiro learns after squinting at the name badge for what feels like half an hour _—_ looks slightly bored now that his gaze has broken away from the spectacle surrounding the host. His eyes mindlessly trace the food stalls around them and then squint suspiciously at the massive metal cooking pot a few feet away from him.

Shiro finds himself observing him with increasing interest. He has a slimmer build even though there’s the hint of his sculpted biceps peaking out of his short-sleeved black shirt. Shiro’s sure that this guy would intimidate some of his closest and biggest gym buddies, and yet Shiro wonders if he would be strong enough to meet Shiro’s sheer strength in a sparring match. If he was flexible and could wrangle himself out of Shiro’s grip if he slammed him against the gym mat, or if he was eager enough to hold Shiro down. Shiro wonders if he can lift and if so, how much.

Shiro is curious out of his personal interest, not because of the competition. Here, today, no amount of lifting has any advantage. 

Eating contests, Shiro ponders, aren’t the kind of competitions won through muscular strength.

With a look at the host, Shiro realizes that it’s _Coran_ wearing the yellow suit and shouting into the microphone. It seems like he’s interviewing Allura for now, who’s also an old friend and colleague from Shiro’s days at the Garrison. She hardly counts as a _celebrity_ , but Coran is eager to get her opinion on the best kind of sausage.

“Red ones! Yellow ones! Even green ones! Your pick!” he shouts while pushing a sausage plushie into her face.

“Well, Coran. That’s a hard question.” Her tone stays gentle despite her efforts to dodge the sausage. “I’m a _vegetarian._ ” 

Shiro turns back with a grin and now looks at Keith again. It’s hard not to occupy himself with Keith the whole time because frankly he's very _pretty._ Shiro likes the dark tousle of hair, the sharp features and his thick eyelashes and his ... _cute_ mouth. 

Keith is — and Shiro decides this after barely a couple of minutes sitting opposite of him — pretty in every sense of the word, almost _otherworldly_ so. Which makes it all the more a goddamn tragedy that today Shiro’s supposed to bolt down more than two dozen of _Marki Mark’s_ _‘The party don’t start without my wiener’_ -hotdogs — a branded product from hell — right in front of him.

Shiro isn’t in denial about his appearance but even the hottest guy doesn’t look good when he’s stuffed with sausages. And it’s been some time since Shiro made an acquaintance with someone he didn’t know since he was young. But by now he’s really curious about what Keith’s doing here of all places, when this town is anything but a known touristy spot.

“You’re not from here, are you?” he asks Keith. 

For a few seconds Keith doesn’t even do as much as look into Shiro’s direction. When nobody answers Shiro's question for an awkwardly long time, Keith turns his head to him abruptly. 

“Oh,” Keith says. His voice is hot enough for Shiro to be ready to drop his pants here and now. “Oh, sorry” Keith says again. “You were talking to me?”

Shiro can’t help his discouraged smile. “Yeah.”

Keith waits for him to continue. Shiro sees an opening.

“This is a small town,” he explains. “And even though we have some visitors because of,” he points with his head at the festival,”...this, most don’t participate in the eating competition right away.”

Keith’s expression while listening is stone cold. He doesn’t return the vibrant smile Shiro throws him and for a moment Shiro wonders if he has insulted Keith in any way.

“It’s just that Juniper is so far from the highway,” Shiro continues and the end of the sentence hangs in the air. Shiro doesn’t know what else to say.

“And you can’t come here if you’re from out of town?” Keith asks.

“Oh no, no. That’s not what I mean, uh.” Shiro scratches the back of his head, smile wiped from his face.

But then Keith cracks one and holds out his hand. “I’m just teasing, sorry,” he laughs. “I’m Keith.”

With a relieved smile, Shiro breathes out. “Oh, hah! Ha, got me there. And yeah, I know.” Shiro nods at the name badge on Keith’s chest. “I’m Shiro,” he introduces himself, shakes Keith’s hand and watches his head drop to look at where he just pointed.

“Oh. Yeah, forgot that.” Keith takes the name badge between the thumb and index finger of his free hand to look at it before his eyes shift back to Shiro, then he looks down at their still joined hands. Shiro forgot he’s still holding his.

“Oh,” he quickly pulls his hand back. “Happy to have you here, Keith. Welcome to Juniper.”

Keith doesn’t seem to mind, and grins a cheeky smile. Somewhere in the background, Coran ran out of local celebrities and started interviewing long-time participants. His voice echoes over the whole place, but Shiro ignores it.

While he desperately searches for something to talk about, Keith beats him to it. 

“Why are _you_ here?” Keith asks him, honest and open. 

“Uh.” The question throws Shiro off guard. “I live here,” he replies dumbly. He thought that much was clear.

But Keith shakes his head, a small grin on his face. “No. Here,” he emphasizes his words by pointing at their table. “Don’t wanna shit on the other participants, but,” he pauses and makes a show of looking Shiro up and down, “you don’t look like you’re someone who eats hotdogs on the regular.”

Shiro stares at him dumbfounded, unsure how to interpret that comment. Something in Keith’s tone is sloppy, teasing. 

Maybe Keith asked because Shiro looks a little younger and truth to be told a lot more defined than the rest of the participants. That much he acknowledges. _His_ reason, on the other hand...

“Uhm.” Shiro wonders if he should lie but then decides that there’s no harm in telling the truth as long it’s to a stranger. “Rough break-up last week,” he confesses with a self-deprecating smile. Shiro figures it’s not news to most townies or friends considering that rumors and gossip spread quicker than bushfires in summer. 

“Oh.” Keith’s voice is low and his eyebrows pinch.

To Shiro’s friends and family, it also didn’t come as a surprise. 

But to Keith it must sound especially sad that Shiro was someone who would break up with his partner one day and then join a hotdog eating contest the other, ready to drown his sorrows in sausages. Now that Shiro thinks about it, it sounds really unappealing. 

“It wasn’t that much of a punch,” Shiro blabbers in hope to make himself sound a little less disappointing. “We both wanted different things for a long time.”

Keith nods and even though to Shiro, he’s a mere stranger, there’s empathy in his eyes. He really feels for Shiro, which somehow makes it worse. 

”If I’m honest, I should have done this half a year ago,” Shiro continues even though he wishes his mouth would just stop talking about his _lame_ break-up. 

“But then you wouldn’t have a reason to sign up for this here in time,” Keith smiles. “And sit with a cool stranger instead of your lousy girlfriend.” It’s meant to cheer up Shiro and surprisingly, it does. He barks a laugh.

“Boyfriend, actually,” he corrects swiftly, eyes fixed on Keith for his reaction to that fact.

“Oh,” Keith says slightly surprised. Then he smiles. “Lousy boyfriend. Whatever,” he corrects himself. 

Shiro feels his mouth go dry. Thankfully, someone puts two beers in paper cups on the table next to them. It’s free for the participants, Shiro knows and reaches for the first cup to give it to Keith and takes the second for himself. 

“So Keith,” Shiro says and takes the first tentative sip from the cup. The beer already has warmed up quite a bit which is a disappointment but he’ll drink it anyway. Keith hasn’t touched his yet. “You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.” Shiro supports himself on his prosthetic and leans forward.

Keith mirrors him; he supports his chin on his arm and looks at Shiro lazily. “My reason isn’t as special. Just my friend signing me up for this as a big fucking prank.”

“Huh?” Shiro raises an eyebrow. Keith takes a sip from his beer. “And you still came all the way here?” he asks, surprised.

“He used _my_ paypal for the sign-up fee. Might as well get a few free hot dogs with it,” Keith replies dryly. “We were on a road trip, so actually in the area.”

“But you’re not from here?”

“Nah,” Keith smiles. “Me and my friend were checking out NAU. See if it’s to our liking.”

Keith looks youthful, but not to pass as a freshman. He might be something over 25, if Shiro guesses correctly. “You’re applying?” Shiro asks. NAU is a little more than an hour from here.

“Waiting for a response. I’m hoping for a graduate assistantship.”

Shiro is about to reply something, wish Keith luck or ask if he ever wants to grab a bite with him in case he’ll get the assistantship, but all of a sudden the local school marching band plays what sounds like an odd remix of the town’s patriotic hymn and ‘stars and stripes’ and the Juniper children and teenage dance group’ struts to the stage to do their first performance of the day.

Coran’s yells are barely audible over all the noise, but Shiro makes out that the eating contest is about to begin.

“Any tips on this, big guy?” Keith asks him over the noise. Shiro’s eyes shift to him.

“I thought you were in this for the free hot dogs?” he shouts back.

“True,” Keith replies. “But when I’m participating in something, I never go home without a win.”

It’s fake confidence, or at least Shiro thinks it is. Nonetheless, he’s spurred on.

“I’m sure I won’t let you win this thing that easily, Mister.” They both grin.

“So,” Keith shouts, because the marching band is still going strong, “any tips?”

Shiro thinks for a moment and tilts his head a little.

“Yeah, so.” He leans forward and finally the music dies down, so he can speak in a normal voice again. “You really need to open up your jaw,” he instructs. “If it’s not loose enough, you’ll cramp eating the hot dogs.” He bites his lip as he thinks of anything else he can come up. “Wet your lips because it can hurt if you're shoving it in dry. The buns aren’t the best quality, I’ve heard.”

Shiro sees Keith nod eager out of the corner of his eye. He nods too, thinking. 

“Oh!” His eyes lit up. “Careful with your teeth. The sausage will go down quicker if you don’t use them.” 

Shiro’s too much in his element of sharing his knowledge that he could notice the smirk on Keith’s face. “Try not let your jaw cramp up. And if you end up choking on one, don’t panic, and just breath through your nose.”

It’s the last seconds before the contest begins, marked by the enormous amounts of hotdogs plated up in front of them. Shiro eyes them up and down and gulps, then shifts his eyes back to Keith.

“ _Contestants, are you ready?_ ” Coran shouts. His voice echoes over the whole area.

“Something tells me,” Keith grins, “that even though this is your first time, you do have some good amount of experience in this.”

Shiro’s eyes widen.

“ _SEEEEETTTTTTTT—”_

“I’m, no, I—“ Shiro’s whole face heats up. While Keith’s smile is getting bigger he fumbles for words to say.

“It’s impressive, but I’m still sure I’ll win this thing,” Keith says and takes his first hotdog in his hand. 

“ _GOOOOOO,_ ” Coran howls into the microphone.

There’s the starting shot and the participants all around him start stuffing the hotdogs in their mouths. Shiro still stares open-mouthed at Keith, who does it too.

He loses the first ten seconds which is enough time for Keith to swallow three hot dogs. Then Shiro comes back to life — even though still embarrassed — and reaches for his first hot dog.

Shiro hopes he’ll survive the contest and the embarrassment because even though he’s not sure about his impression on Keith, he does want to try and ask him for his number.

It’s impressive how someone with such a small frame can eat so much. Keith practically gulps down two hot dogs at once and reaches for the next ones before he even begins to chew them. From the sidelines, someone is cheering him on; Shiro takes a look at a guy who must be the same age as him, with a tan and long and brown rugged hair. There’s a big green leaf visibly printed on his shirt. From the little time that Shiro has gotten to know Keith, he can’t believe that they’d be friends.

On the other side, Shiro’s friends arrived too, now leaning against the fence. There’s Veronica holding hands with her new girlfriend _Acxa_. Next to them is Adam, watching and clapping hands for Shiro. It feels bittersweet to see him here, but Shiro hopes they can be friends after getting some distance. 

“ _Whooooohoooo,_ Shiro!” Romelle shouts, pushing through a crowd of people. “Make that _twink_ regret the day he was born!”

“I’m not a twink,” Keith says between two bites. His previous rhythm of shoving and munching slowed down remarkably. He currently leans back, tiredly munching on only a sane mouthful of hot dog. “Why is she so mean?” he adds muttering.

“If we survive, I’ll make sure to tell her you’re not a twink,” Shiro offers and stuffs a whole hot dog in his mouth with ease. He raises an eyebrow at Keith, who gives him a determined frown in return.

Keith’s friend started shouting too, only stopped by Veronica, whose voice can transcend every natural level that a human voice should reach as she cheers Shiro on. Nonetheless, it gets mixed into cheers and shouts of the whole crowd.

One of the participants drums on his chest and yells before stuffing another hotdog down. The crowd goes wild. Shiro is the one regretting the day he was born—

“Don’t give up on me now, Shiro,” Keith says, looking at him with the determination of a soldier. “I can’t do this without you.”

And Shiro finally gets a grip on himself, clenches his ass cheeks together and nods firmly. “We’ll get through this together, Keith,” he says dramatically. They bump their hot dogs together, then soldier on with the next bite.

“And I’ll comf wfout af the winner,” Keith says with his mouth full.

“We’ll fwee,” Shiro grins back.

Ten minutes later, the contest is over and so is Shiro’s dignity. 

There are spots of ketchup and mustard all over his shirt and on his face and no amount of wet wipes can change that for today. He really needs to go home and change, or take a shower. But right now, he doesn’t really feel like moving.

“I think I’m gonna quit meat,” Keith confesses and burps loudly and unrestrained. He pauses, with a look of pure misery. “Oh god, that just felt like I’m reliving this nightmare again.” His one hand holds his slightly bulged stomach, the other supports him from falling off his seat.

Shiro nods tiredly. There’s a small part in him that just can’t believe that sitting for twenty minutes sharp and stuffing his body with food could leave him feeling this exhausted. At the same time he’s impressed that none of them died.

“The human body,” he begins, interrupted by a second burp from Keith, “is incredible.”

Keith nods. “And the human brain is incredibly stupid to test that.” 

Shiro nods. He couldn’t have phrased that any better.

Unsurprisingly neither of them won. Instead someone who Shiro went to school with, a lanky tall boy with brown hair and paper thin limbs did. There’s neither much fat nor muscle on him, and yet he won with a lead of fifteen hotdogs on the remaining participants.

Shiro lets out a long sigh.

“I think I’m gonna go soon,” Keith says, catching Shiro’s attention. “Matt just messaged me that he needs to go back to our motel.”

“Oh,” Shiro says, trying hard to not show his disappointment. He searches for the right words. Even though Keith is a stranger to him, he’s interested in him. He wants to know what he studies and where he’s from. He wants to keep in contact so he knows if he’s getting the assistantship or not.

“Matt told me that he read on the internet that there’s this secret military base around here,” Keith says and looks at Shiro expectantly. “You don’t know by any chance—“

“Huh. What? The Garrison?” Shiro interrupts him dumbly.

“It’s got a name? I thought it was _secret_.”

Shiro doesn’t know how to tell Keith that yes, the military has a secret base a mile from here, but with a small town like Juniper, just wasn’t _that_ secret to anyone here.

“Anyways. He wanted to go there. Look for aliens.” Keith weighs his head from one side to another. “He’s crazy,” he adds and Shiro gets the feeling that’s Keith’s explanation for everything his friend does.

“Figured that much.” Shiro takes a deep breath. It smells like beer and alcohol. “I know the secret base.”

“How?” Keith’s eyes spark up in interest.

“I’m ex-military,” Shiro nods at the prosthetic arm. 

“Shit,” Keith curses. His friend calls out his name, but he waves him off. “Can you take us there, Shiro?” he asks with a sparkle in his eyes.

“Nearish,” Shiro says because no way in hell he can just take them directly to the base, but it will be okay if they look at it from one of the mountains. “Can’t promise aliens, though.”

Keith’s smile is big and vibrant. Shiro’s heart leaps in his chest. 

“Tomorrow night?” Shiro tries. He doesn’t know if his heart rates picking up because of Keith or all the cholesterol.

“And after tomorrow, we could ditch Matt and have a date,” Keith suggests. Shiro’s heart rate takes up a notch. That answers the question: It must be Keith who makes him feel that way.

“K-Keith.” At Shiro’s splutter, Keith grins wider, types something into his phone and hands it to Shiro. Shiro feels his hands getting sweaty, and fears he will drop Keith’s phone before he’s even done pushing his phone number in. 

"Bring me somewhere fancy?" Keith suggests.

"Uh." There's not much to choose from, if Shiro's completely honest. "Pancakes at Hunk's diner?"

Keith laughs. "Sweet."

When Shiro hands him the phone back, Keith gathers his stuff and stands. “Gotta go,” he says. “Matt is getting impatient.”

Shiro stands with him, although his stomach starts protesting because of the abrupt movement. His face is bright red. “Uh, Keith. W-wait.”

Keith turns back to him.

“Are you.. uhm, what I mean to ask is.. are you serious?”

At that, Keith grins again, this time it’s his competitive smile again. Shiro wants to see it every day from now on, he decides. 

“Yeah." He hums, waves at his friend who's really looking impatient. With a look over his shoulder back at Shiro, Keith smirks in a way that will certainly keep Shiro up the whole night and adds, “told you I’m not getting out of this _without_ a win.”  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hunk's diner has all you can eat pancakes that evening and Shiro learns of Keith's true powers


End file.
